


Home was never so close...

by iSpitonFire



Series: OG Hat Man, Aleksei/Death, and his husband, Caleb, Life/an ass [4]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: and finally make everyone sad, let's start with stand tall, then sad willie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iSpitonFire/pseuds/iSpitonFire
Summary: A simple ghost or rather Death himself watches Stand Tall and tries to confront Caleb.
Series: OG Hat Man, Aleksei/Death, and his husband, Caleb, Life/an ass [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024077
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Something great.

Time continues to pass faster and quicker than he wanted and before he knew it the Orpheum was playing again. Some drew him to it tonight, not in the same way as the time he found those three boys before they died. The ones who could have been rock gods. Not, it was different. An ending was culminating and yet a beginning was happening. He wanted to go and leave at the same time and a hidden curiosity from times long gone drove him to the audience.

Accidently, he ended up behind the one member of the band who hadn’t died that night months ago. The soul was the same, but the case was not.

Curious.

No matter, the golden soul that stepped on stage gained his undivided attention. The gold of her potential and magic mixed perfectly with the purple of her soul. It was fascinating to observe and reminded him of another powerful purple being he was, unfortunately, acquainted with. Except hers was warm and mixed together like warm honey in tea. _His_ was like a too warn, never taken care of golden cage that had been melted and solidified over the dark purple of his soul.

Sometimes looking at it made him want to break down crying. It was a curious response to his sworn enemy and why he avoided the man. Mistake.

But her soul was warm and he felt like a moth to a flame looking at it. And her voice was like honey and he swore right then and there that if the mistake or anyone else tried to hurt her, well, Death could up their scheduled time. It was frowned upon, but not impossible.

However, before he could think too deeply on that, the stage flashed with a collision of spring in light pink and pale green, and a slight purple that churned his non-existent stomach if he had fully noticed it, and suddenly the drummer was there and he felt the air in the room change.

What had changed and why he felt both excited and terrified, he had no idea because there was an explosion of red and blue and the bassist was there and the electricity was high. Higher than when the boys had played last time, and it wasn’t due to the crowd or the girl’s magic soul. No, it was something else.

Something great.

If he had a heart, it would have stopped at the flickering of the final soul. The red and white soul had tethers of purple pulling on it, trying to keep him trapped or keep him from leaving. He was itching to do something to help, but it would disrupt the band so all he could do was wait as his frozen heart was in his throat.

And then the boy sang and stayed and the relief was like nothing he’d felt in a long time and the band’s excitement electrified the place even more.

He got so swept up in the music that it was only at the end when he realized that the mistake had claimed them. And his anger burned his soul to a degree that he knew wasn’t healthy and if he was in a more right mind, would have hated to see in himself.

Hated the way his yellow and silver soul started to turn black and gold.

But he couldn’t see and the mistake had tried to take his band by force, and Death was not having it. If their souls passed before the night was over, the mistake would find out what true fear was.

For now, for now, it was time for a long-overdue talk. It was time to let that man know exactly what he felt about his _club_.


	2. Since…

His first goal was to storm the mistakes horrid club, but before he got anywhere near it, he came across the pale yellow and dark blue soul he always unconsciously looked for in a crowd, and without noticing the anger left and his soul reverted to its proper, resting color.

For the skater was not skater nor was he laughing. The brightness of his soul at been enough to illuminate cities since he met the one he would always choose, was now gone and his soul had faded more than he had seen it since.

Since…

Since the boy had died. He hadn’t even noticed his feet slow nor his body turning to the walking soul. Every fiber in his soul screaming to help as Death fights and tells him no.

He had almost forgotten the headaches he got when he followed the skater too long.

Maybe he should send a hat after the soul.

Make sure it is alright.

He. He is alright.

Maybe sitting down.

That…

That would b…

e…

…

…

…

Death turned and walked in the direction of the newly dead.


	3. In order for something to happen, there must be a change in routine.

In order for something to happen, there must be a change in routine. If there is no change, then the routine stays the same and life is stagnant. Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with routine and the simplicity is offers life. The problem arises when being stagnant keeps one from growing to their full potential.

Or in some cases keeps them trapped in a never-ending cycle. Go from here to there and back again with no in-between. No variation. No vacation. Just the job.

The walks he once took were a treat to himself that felt like a secret. It was too soon after his last one. He knew that. He didn’t know where he went but he knew it was too soon. Too much variation from the routine was not right nor allowed.

Time blurred as souls keep getting reaped and the routine stays.

And stays.

And stays.

There are couples dying and children lost and time moves on.

And on.

And on.

There is no rest for the dead as they keep dying.

And dying.

And dying.

And

d

y

i

n

g

without end.

For that is the one constant change cannot affect. There will always be souls to reap and Reapers to patrol.

And nothing will change that.

It will continue on.

And on.

And on.

…

It is not often that a ghost runs into Death. He looks down into wide bright blue eyes rimmed red instead of the pale pink and paler green soul.

And he listened to the soft, sad, pleading words of a heartbroken boy.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going. I-I’m guessing you’re a ghost? I mean they are the onl\- never mind. Do you? Do you by any chance know a Willie? I’ve been looking for him everywhere and I can’t find him and I’m really worried that something happened. We think we know- uh just do you…do you know…him…?”


End file.
